


Bad Publicity

by parkguardian



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Alternate Universe - No Werewolves, College Setting, Exhibitionism, F/M, M/M, implied stydia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-11
Updated: 2014-11-11
Packaged: 2018-02-24 23:06:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2599826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/parkguardian/pseuds/parkguardian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are some things that Isaac never thought he'd be getting used to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bad Publicity

**Author's Note:**

> prompt was for v!isaac and e!stiles. did you guys know that explicit is supposed to be the rating for porn because i didnt until just now. oops? thank you for reading!!

Malia was a sweet girl. With glittering eyes and a mouth made for kissing, she was eager to let Stiles stick his hands under her blouse, even on public transport. As he set warm palms at the bare skin of her waist, hitching her shirt up as he did so, he could feel the stares of a few other students departing from campus. He didn't mind that they were attracting attention; he reveled in it.  
  
She left a blotchy pattern of lipstick marks at the side of his neck. He tried to return the favour, intending to bite a mark of his own at her collar, but he wasn't so lucky. He was repaid with a mouthful of windswept hair. She laughed, and he pulled his attention away from her just long enough to realize the bus was one stop away from his designated housing. They had limited time left, but they were bad at trying to behave themselves. Malia insisted on dragging circles along his thigh as they sat, intertwined.  
  
They stumbled off the bus, leaving the mildly disgusted glares behind. Stiles was used to these kinds of looks by now. He wouldn't admit it aloud, but he had made a habit of getting sloppy in public, and he liked the looks it got him. Malia didn't seem to mind much either. Maybe she wouldn't be another mindless hook up from another mindless lecture after all.  
  
The walk to Stiles' apartment was an antagonizing eternity from the bus stop. He wasn't sure how it was possible, but he managed to get the door open with Malia trying to undo his fly.  
  
They fell through the doorway, scrabbling at clothes as they found the living room. The door had slammed on the hinges behind them, rattling the array of framed paintings Stiles' roommate had hung along the walls. She shoved him down onto the corduroy couch, tearing off his shirt.  
  
She hummed appreciatively, which Stiles was grateful for. His chest wasn't exactly an impressive build, and here she was, taking in the image of him like he was some sculpted masterpiece. No, he wasn't pretty, but he quickly discovered that she was.  
  
Her breasts were full, pressed into a discoloured bra. It wasn't lacy and delicate. She hadn't planned on hooking up with someone. Stiles liked the fact he had become her afternoon exception. Her stomach was flat, skin sun kissed and bronze. She was well toned and strong, pinning Stiles with ease.  
  
Malia didn't hesitate to give Stiles a biting kiss and pull his jeans down his thighs. She palmed at him through his boxers, eliciting a shuddering moan from him. He was upset when she pulled away until he realized what she'd moved off for.  
  
She shucked off her floral printed pants, and Stiles found that her legs were coarse with hair. She wasn't embarrassed in the slightest by it, and Stiles was pleased--she was soft all over and she felt lovely straddling his thighs. She guided his long fingers to the hooks in her bra.  
  
Malia was great at multitasking. With anything else, Stiles could say the same about himself. He found unhooking her bra to be a struggle as she rubbed herself off against the line of his thigh.  
  
"Here," she said, "let me."  
  
She stilled her hips for a mere partial of a second and undid the bra with one hand.  
  
"I have no idea how you did that."  
  
"It takes practice," she said, grinning. She rocked her hips down against Stiles' own. He was sure she could feel that he was getting hard through the sheer fabric of his boxers. She leaned in close and nipped at his ear. "You can practice with me as many times as you want."  
  
Stiles took that as his cue to flip them over. He closed his teeth gently across her nipple. He wedged his hand between them and she squirmed to meet his fingers. He pressed against her over her underwear. He was a relentless tease, waiting until a begging plea left her lips before he cast her panties aside.  
  
Her curly pubes were rough at his palm as he rubbed along her clit. She bucked to match him, arching her back to feel the sensations slicing to her stomach. He wanted to swallow up each of her moans, licking into her mouth like he could taste the sounds she was making.  
  
The blinds over the window were cracked, letting in streaks of orange sunlight. It painted Malia's body all kinds of heavenly colours. Her eyes were practically glowing in the attention of the day.  
  
"Do you have..?"  
  
She panted the question against the hinge of his jaw. She felt him nod and forced herself to wrench away from his touch so he could stand.  
  
Without the weight of Stiles on top of her, the apartment felt startlingly cold. Her arms prickled with chills as she counted the seconds he was away. She barely made it to ten before he was falling over himself in his return.  
  
They resumed their initial positions, only Stiles had taken his underwear off and he had set the condom down onto the coffee table, right in arm's reach. He took his time in working her back up again before slipping a finger inside her.  
  
She was practiced. A few sharp thrusts and a languid kiss later, she assured Stiles she was ready. She didn't mind she could feel his smeared pre-cum all down her thighs. He was shaking when he went to rip the packaging open.  
  
It was a snug enough fit. He went to making a battlefield of purple blood bruises down her chest. He let her pick a pace and tried his best to stick with it. Maybe he should have let her ride him...but that was a fleeting thought when she hooked her legs around him to draw him closer.  
  
He almost missed the creaking tell of the front door coming open.  
  
There was the shuffling of plastic bags and an annoyed sigh. Isaac Lahey pushed his way through the living room and into the kitchen, hauling groceries. Stiles looked up and gave Isaac a catty smirk.  
  
"Couldn't you have taken her the other ten steps to your bedroom?"  
  
Malia ripped her painted nails down Stiles' back, leaving lines of red behind. Stiles laughed, dispersing a moan she'd pulled from him.  
  
"Where's the fun in that?" Stiles asked.  
  
Isaac was averting his gaze with some difficulty. He bumbled about the space of the kitchen, stacking things into the fridge and the pantry. The background noise of elated moans didn't help the flush over his features. He tried to keep his eyes trained down to the tile, or fixated on labels and cans.  
  
It wasn't working.  
  
He stopped at the counter, staring out into the living room. He jolted at the realization that Stiles had been watching him the whole time, not the girl trapped underneath him.  
  
The honey hair on her legs looked shiny in the light from the windows. Her head was tipped back, and Isaac was fairly certain she'd clawed at Stiles' back to the point of drawing blood. Stiles seemed to like the prickling crawl of blood at his skin, as he wasn't deterred with the task at hand. The contrast of their skin made for a beautiful clash. Where he was a silvery pale, she was dark and golden.  
  
Isaac had walked in on Stiles in his encounters often. It was one of the perks of living with him, Stiles had said. No matter how many times Isaac had seen the bony body of Stiles Stilinski, it still managed to get him flustered. He was scrawny and sharp, flecked in moles, and Isaac couldn't help but dote on the dark trail of hair down to his crotch.  
  
 Malia pulled Stiles down into a kiss that he didn't protest. She seemed to be asking him something, voice soft so Isaac couldn't hear. Stiles wasn't as courteous. He nuzzled her neck and responded at a normal volume, "Don't worry, he's just my roommate."  
  
"Fuck off," Isaac piped.  
  
"Admit it, Isaac. We look good together, don't we?"  
  
Isaac turned away, taking the boxes of Kraft along with. He made sure to place them on the shelf that was out of Stiles' reach. He lumbered back to the counter, casting another glance to the couple in the other room.  
  
Malia was writhing as Stiles fucked into her shallowly, laughing breathlessly. At this point, Isaac wasn't sure if he wanted to be under Stiles or over Malia. Isaac never thought that Stiles would be the kind of guy to call someone 'baby' until the word perfectly left his mouth. Malia's breath hitched audibly.  
  
"Do me a favour and tell Malia how hot she looks right now," Stiles prompted.  
  
Stiles was adamant on keeping Isaac's attention where it belonged, and Isaac hated him for it. He muttered an expletive under his breath and curled his hand around the gallon of milk. He picked it up and stuck it in the fridge.  
  
"Yeah, Malia. You look really hot right now," Isaac sighed. "Congratulations."  
  
Isaac was running out of things to put away. He wasn't sure what he was supposed to do when he was done in the kitchen. He knew the proper action to take would be to abscond to his bedroom. Part of him hoped he'd have the courage to stay.  
  
It didn't seem like his dilemma would have much significance, however. Malia was tensing up around Stiles, moaning against his mouth. He was pressing the pads of his fingers around the soft slopes of her breasts. Her hands threaded into his hair. His thrusts were erratic, urgent, and Isaac knew what that meant. He didn't want to give Stiles the satisfaction of watching as he came, but he couldn't look away.  
  
Stiles slumped over Malia. Her eyes were squeezed shut. She was twitching her hips minutely through the aftershocks of her orgasm. They looked utterly wrecked and Isaac was staring, jaw slack and dazed.  
  
They pulled away from each other, struggling to prop themselves on the couch cushions. Malia exhaled slowly, stretching her arms up over her head. Stiles bent and kissed her stomach. She squealed delightedly, but was quick to squirm out of the way when he tried to tickle her sides.  
  
She shrugged on Stiles' shirt and stepped back into her underwear, content to remain without her pants on. Stiles padded into the kitchen, bare feet slapping at the cold tile. Isaac cleared his throat.  
  
"You're not supposed to throw those away in here, we talked about this," Isaac said, narrowing his eyes.  
  
Stiles dropped the condom into the trash can.  
  
"You were saying?"  
  
Isaac opened his mouth to retort, but Malia made her way to the kitchen and nestled in under Stiles' arm.  
  
"Can I use your shower?" she asked, looking up at Stiles with big eyes.  
  
"You should use Isaac's. He's got a great shower head."  
  
Malia brightened. Stiles directed her toward Isaac's room, and she skipped off after planting a wet kiss to the side of his face. Stiles looked too pleased with himself. He stepped around Isaac and grabbed one of the apples from the bowl they'd stacked with fruit.  
  
"Excuse me," Isaac started.  
  
"You're excused," Stiles returned.  
  
Isaac snatched the apple from Stiles' hands. He reached for it, but Isaac was holding it high over his head. Isaac turned his gaze to the ceiling instead of letting himself linger on Stiles' still very naked body.  
  
"How do you know my shower head's great?"  
  
"Lydia and I used it last week. Duh," Stiles said.  
  
Isaac sputtered. He looked back down at Stiles, who was beaming with pride. Stiles fisted his hands into the collar of Isaac's shirt, dragging the taller boy down to meet him. Stiles' breath was ghosting across Isaac's mouth, they were so close. Isaac fought to keep himself from closing the fraction of space between them. It wouldn't take much to give in and kiss him, curl his tongue into his mouth, drag out those keening whines that he'd heard so frequently. Isaac could feel the brush of Stiles' lips in the hint of a smile.  
  
"But you heard us in there, didn't you? You listened to her praise the way I use my mouth," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. Stiles tilted his head and peppered kisses along Isaac's jawline. He slipped one hand down to Isaac's crotch and gave him a teasing squeeze.  
  
Isaac shuddered.  
  
Stiles drew away at the slightest reaction.  
  
"I'm easy, Isaac. All you have to do is _ask."_  
  
When Stiles left the kitchen, Isaac barely had time to process that he had swiped the apple back out from his grip.


End file.
